


only love can enter here

by FreshBrains



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Community: 100_men, Community: comment_fic, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, POV Daryl Dixon, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6900652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never thought he’d see this. Men like him don’t get lucky enough to see sights like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	only love can enter here

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ comment_fic prompt [Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene, Beth and Daryl get married in the church in Alexandria.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/720031.html?thread=95052447#t95052447) and the LJ 100_men prompt #25: [Tie](http://fresh-brainss.livejournal.com/6514.html).

“Damn penguin suit,” Daryl says, yanking at the tie around his throat.

“Come on, man,” Rick says with a grimace, swatting Daryl’s hand away. “I haven’t tied one of those in months. Don’t ruin my handiwork.”

“Best man my ass,” Daryl says in response, still glaring at the full-length mirror in front of him. “A real best man wouldn’t put me in this mess.” The suit doesn’t fit quite right—a bit too short in the legs, a bit too baggy in the shoulders. But the color is nice—a neat navy, with a dark red tie. “Never worn one before,” he says, fiddling with the tie.

“And you’ll never have to again, if you don’t want,” Rick says, hiding a smile. “But today, you’ll wear it and you’ll like it.” He’s dressed in his uniform, but this time, the pants are ironed.

There’s a soft knock on the bedroom door. It’s Rick’s bedroom, half a block down from Daryl and Beth’s own two-bedroom house where the women are getting ready to go to the church, and for half a second, Daryl wonders what Merle would think of all this—the suit, the ceremony, the airiness of it all, especially when the world is still burning around them. But then he remembers that Merle was his brother my blood, but Rick is his brother by _choice_.

“Almost ready?” Glenn peers in, looking just as goofy and excited as he did when he and Maggie got hitched. “I just saw Michonne take off, so this thing’s setting sail.”

“One more thing,” Rick says, and rummages around in his bedside table. “Take this. Don’t make a fuss about it, either.” He drops something small into Daryl’s palm. “It was Lori’s.” Rick scrubs a hand down his face, but he’s not sad—it’s like a weight has been lifted. He and Michonne are married, or may as well be, but Daryl figures it wouldn’t feel right for Rick to give away his wife’s ring like that.

“You sure?” Two words, that’s all he’ll say, and when Rick nods, Daryl curls his fingers around the ring. “Then let’s go.”

*

The sun is high and the day is warm, but there’s a breeze that ruffles the frayed hems of the ladies’ skirts as they gather in front of the church. Father Gabriel is standing on the church steps, looking just as stiff and grim as ever in his collar, Bible in hand. Since they’ve been stockpiling supplies in the church, the ceremony will be held outside.

“Loosen up, Padre,” Abraham says gruffly, looking just as uncomfortable in a suit as Daryl is. “It’s gonna be a good day.”

“We can never be certain of that,” Eugene says, but when Abraham shoots him a dirty look, he quickly amends it, “but it feels like a good one.”

“I haven’t performed a wedding in years,” Gabriel says scanning the streets for the wedding party. “I want it to be nice for them.”

“Ooh, there they are!” Rosita starts herding guests into the mish-mash of chairs they’ve set up outside, the strap of her tight dress falling off her shoulder. “Everyone, sit, look pretty. Picture-perfect, people!”

“Nobody has a camera,” Tara says, but Denise shushes her.

“Wait, aren’t we supposed to rise to look at the bride?” Eugene half-sits, looking to the others for approval.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Rosita says, and waves her arms. “Changed my mind. Everyone, up!”

“Sit down, it’s just me,” Daryl says, walking quickly through the crowd, still tugging at his collar, face flushed from all the eyes on him. Rick, Glenn, and Aaron follow him closely like ducklings, all looking like a mix between proud fathers and teasing brothers.

“I didn’t know his hair could do that,” Tara whispers to Denise, eyebrows raising at Daryl’s neatened, combed-back hair.

Daryl stands next to Gabriel, hands folded in front of him, mouth set in his ever-present frown, and as the crowd murmurs around them, he waits, eyes trained on the street. He’s taken down walkers and men alike, he’s faced death head-on, but up until this moment, he’s never quite known nerves.

*

_Come on, come on, come on_ , Daryl thinks, fingers itching to fidget, legs itching to run. These people are his family, his friends, and they’re all talking and laughing amongst themselves, but he still feels watched, trapped. The church looms behind him, an imposing white figure against the blue skies. _I just need to see you, and then I can breathe_.

“There she is,” Rosita says, and motions to the guests again as Maggie and Michonne come down the street. They’re both in purple dresses—Maggie’s a simple cotton church dress, Michonne’s a floor-length thing with thin straps, something meant for the beach. They’re threadbare and mismatched, just like everyone else’s clothing, but they look beautiful in the summer sun. Their bouquets are made up of purple, white, and blue wildflowers, tied with cord.

And behind them, Daryl catches a glimpse, just a _glance_ , of pale blonde hair and a hushing white fabric.

“God,” he whispers, swallowing hard. He never thought he’d see this. Men like him don’t get lucky enough to see sights like this. “ _Fuck_.”

Gabriel gives him a disappointed glare. Rick stifles a laugh.

They couldn’t find a veil. Beth appears in front of him plain, bare-faced, smiling, her eyes crystal blue in the sunlight, her feet bare beneath the white dress borrowed from Deanna’s closet. Her hair is tied up in a knot, tucked in with sprigs of hyacinth.

“Hey there,” she says, standing across from him, reaching for his hand.

When Daryl’s fingers meet hers, his hand shaking in her steady grip, he can finally exhale.

“One thing first,” she says to Gabriel, and reaches up with her free hand to run her fingers through Daryl’s hair, scruffing it, drawing it back down over his forehead like it usually is. She smiles, playful and sweet. “There you are,” she whispers.

_Here I am_ , Daryl thinks. _And I’ll always be right where you need me_.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Phil Collins' "Two Worlds"


End file.
